Worry bout the things you do


In the dead of night, when the wind is still
And the children cry, for their evening fill
In another time, an in another land
There are many there, need a helping hand

Oh people,
Donít you worry bout the things I say
Worry bout the things you do

Can you sympathise with the little child
Who is born so poor, can that be reconciled
Must the world now say that weíve lost our touch?
When the people here, they have much too much

In a city street, where the cold wind blows
On a winters night, through the ragged clothes
Just a helping hand, does so much more
Gives a little pride, to the lowly poor

In a raging storm, on a sandy shore
See a man faced down, just a sign of war
And the people say that he should not come
You should stay at home, hereís a pretty gun

Well we drew the lines, and we raped the land
For the gold that lay underneath the sands
When you tried to rise, we did not agree
That was not the way, it was meant to be

In the lawmanís house, they decide what rules
They can bend or break, for the loyal fools
And the people say, we can change at will
But they only care, about the happy pill

I canít believe that weíre so blind
Itís not so hard to be kind
Thereís no need for you to cry
All you need to do is try

So if you shout out load, that you donít agree
To the way things are, and to what might be
Will you stand and say, that the world you see
Needs a change of heart, and a bit less me

Oh people,
Donít you worry bout the things I say
Worry bout the things you do
Oh people,
Donít you worry bout the things I say
Worry bout the things you do
Worry bout the things you do
Worry bout the things you do